


The Pescatarian

by pinksundays



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Meetings, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 05:08:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18887794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksundays/pseuds/pinksundays
Summary: When Evette's date stands her up, she decides to make the best of it and orders dinner for one. Dinner, that came with an attractive (and nosy) table-neighbour with a glorious voice.





	The Pescatarian

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CuriousThimble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Friends, Once](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16048499) by [CuriousThimble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousThimble/pseuds/CuriousThimble). 



> a few months ago i asked for food-prompts to practice my on-the-spot writing. J sent me a spaghetti emoji and this fluffy thing was born! This is for her, for being an amazing friend, always <3
> 
> this is an AU based off of her wonderful Warden, Evette from the series titled Cold Hands, Warm Heart. I fell in love with Evette and her story, and decided to work her into a quick AU. beta-read by our lovely friend, padawanhilary <3

* * *

 

Pushing the tea-light further away from her, the woman tucked her hair protectively behind her right ear and leaned further back into her seat. It had taken her literal _years_ to grow it back out again, and Leliana had taken the trouble to tame her lush, raven hair into a pretty fishtail side-braid rather than the usual neat dutch one she preferred. It would be a shame if another tea-light mishap were to happen again.

After a bit of thought, she waved the nearest waiter over to have it taken away. She still hated candles after all. Crossing her legs and checking her phone, she tried to tune out the noise—the restaurant was busy tonight, and her date was either late or not coming. Letting out a sigh, she decided that she would be thankful if he didn’t show. _One less thing to deal with_ , she thought to herself.

There as a loud _pop!_ to her side and everyone looked up from their dishes. Someone was having a birthday, and he and his companions had just opened a bottle of one of the restaurant’s expensive champagne. She of all people would know. It was the same one she had just a year ago when her ex proposed to her. As the restaurant erupted into a chorus of birthday wishes and song, the woman turned away, uninterested. _Such foolish, short-lived happiness_ , she thought. She was young once, like them—perhaps not as eccentric, but there was a short time in her life when everything fell into place. It felt like such a long time ago, too.

 

When she was certain that her date was bailing on her after all (he had to work overtime), she ordered dinner for herself and swore that this would be the last time she’d allow her nephew to set her up. At the very least, she was dining in an upscale restaurant that served the _best_ ravioli. Zevran’s lover—Cousland—owned the place, and she could always count on a good meal here. Discounted, if the man was the Head Waiter for the evening. Alas, it was his day off.

Shrugging off the snow-white shawl, she made a quick trip to the ladies, only to come back to a plate sitting on her table. 

The sight of its meaty sauce sickened her slightly. ‘Excuse me, I think you have the wrong table. I didn’t order this,’ she informed the nearest waiter she could find, pointing to her plate of spaghetti bolognese with a gloved hand.

‘It says here you did,’ the waiter retorted almost immediately, tapping his little pocket device in hand. He didn’t even bother to check with the person who took her order. _Zevran will have you disciplined_ , she cursed, making sure that her annoyance was apparent on her small face.

Forcing a cold smile, she poised her gloved hands gracefully onto the table. ‘And I’m telling you _I didn’t_. I’m a bloody _pescatarian_ ,’ she enunciated each syllable. Did this waiter even know what that meant? All he did was just stare back at her!

Her temper was something tonight, not that it was her fault. People were just… being idiots, for lack of better word. ’Maker’s breath, can you please fetch someone with _manners_ so that I can speak to them?’ she requested sternly and the rude waiter went away with a scoff. 

‘So… are you _really_ a pescatarian, or did you just want the bloke to change your order for free?’ a voice came from beside her and she turned to see who in their right mind was going to piss her off next. It was the man sitting at the table next to her and before she could retort for him to mind his own damned business, he held his hands up, a cheeky smile playing on his lips.

‘I’m just saying, their spaghetti might not look like much, but top it off with their signature parmesan cheese and _whew_ , I can assure you that it’ll show you a good time.’

She looked at him for a moment—confused as to why this man suddenly decided to poke his nose into her life. Her grey eyes lingered on his features for a bit—nice jawline, lightly tanned skin, casual smart attire, and a _beautiful_ head of dirty-blond hair. When she realised he was doing the same with her, she tore her gaze away. 

‘I am,’ she said quickly, realising that she’d forgotten to answer. Trying to recover, she took hold of the teacup sitting on her table and tried to busy herself by drinking its contents. It was empty, and it certainly showed on her face when her eyes flared open in surprise.

Setting it down, she coughed. ‘And it’s certainly not any of your business.’

‘Ohhh, feisty,’ he teased in a sing-song voice and _Maker_ it was melodious. _This is stupid,_ she scolded herself, trying her best to fight a smile.

Right after that comment, her neighbour then smacked himself in the face, surprising her. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, that was inappropriate. I thought me making a stupid comment might take your mind off the bloke who stood you up.’

Her eyes widened at that and she turned back to him. ‘How did—‘

Mr Glorious-voice nodded to her phone. ‘You were checking it the whole evening. When he finally replied, you ordered dinner for one,’ he shrugged, rising from his seat to place himself beside her table. He was dressed in a crisp-white dress shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows, completed with an expensive looking vintage-brown vest that showed off his neatly done checkered tie. His pants, she noted, were black and certainly not pressed to perfection, but at least his leather shoes were shiny. Kind of.

With impossible charm, he held out a hand—gesturing to the empty seat in front of her and bowed slightly. ‘May I? My uncle convinced his wife—my aunt Hera—to set me up with a lovely young lady whom I’ve never met before and quite frankly, I’d rather be sitting with a disgruntled stranger waiting on her meal.’

An honest laugh escaped her—the first this whole damned week—and she extended her hand with approval. It felt good to laugh and not simply scare people away with a cold scowl. People often told her that she was extremely intimidating for a woman her size, and quite frankly, she didn’t care.

But that was the problem. After Cullen had taken back his proposal, she buried herself in her office job—working so hard _into_ a promotion within that month that she cared for nothing else. With not many friends in her circle and no pets, she simply had no social life. At the very least, having a mabari would allow her to come home _before_ the last train left the station each night.

The sweetest smile she’d ever seen caught her attention, and Void take her, her heart skipped a beat. ‘Thank you. And that’s a lovely dress, by the way. The dark blue brings out the colour in your eyes. The griffon pin on your collar is a nice touch, too,’ he commented, making her blush even more. The dress was Leliana’s idea. It was a simple, short-sleeved one accompanied with a pale grey collar and a slight laced pattern. It hugged her slim figure perfectly, then puffed out a bit like a box-pleated skirt as it went down to her knees.

‘I’m Alistair, by the way,’ he introduced himself, extending his hand for a friendly handshake. She noted that he hadn’t taken a seat yet and was actually waiting to properly introduce himself first. _The boy has manners. Damn._ This time, the smile finally broke through and when he saw it, his own deepened. When his dimple decided to show itself, she almost had to bite the inner bit of her mouth.

‘Does... the beautiful Pescatarian have a name?’ he teased, hand still held out for a handshake.

Shyly, she finally relented. ‘Evette... Amell,’ she replied, pulling off a glove to shake his hand just as another waiter arrived with her ravioli. 

There was another _pop!_ and cheer, but neither of them seemed to care as they gazed at each other, both lost in the perfect meeting of two souls who had met in another lifetime. Two souls who had fallen so irrevocably in love.

And now, it seemed that their beautiful history would repeat itself.

 


End file.
